Sunday, May 9, 2010

So, I went to Iceland on vacation. Perfect timing, right? Actually, I was there about a week before Eyjafjallajokel blew the big one, so I'm feeling pretty smug about things right now. Iceland has a ton to offer in the epic nature/scenery department, but maybe not so much in the culinary treats. It is, after all, a frozen, isolated island just south of the Arctic. (Worth noting, however, is the country's extensive geothermal greenhouse system, which does provide a huge amount of local produce. Check it out here.)Nonetheless, I did manage to find some worthwhile snacks, sampled below:

Plokkfiskur: hashed fish stew with milk, potato, onion, and butter. Typically made with cod or haddock. Not exactly diet food, described by Icelanders alternately as "old-man food" and "a hangover cure." This particular microwaveable specimen was picked up at a gas station near Hvolsvollur, and photographed on the dashboard of our rented Toyota Yaris.

Hakarl: Fermented shark meat. Perhaps Iceland's most well-known stomach-turner. It's shark fermented in an ammonia brine and hung to dry for several months. The smell alone can be vomit-inducing. At fish markets, vendors sell bite-sized pieces with toothpicks, lest you touch it with your bare hands. Typically washed down with a shot of Brennevin, a licorice-tasting spirit that is disgusting in its own right.

Smoked puffin with mustard sauce. Gosh, those little penguins sure are adorable, right? Well, they taste good too. Very lean and iron-y, almost like venison. Made me feel alive.

And last but certainly not least, the Icelandic hotdog. I unfortunately do not have a glamour shot of the sausage itself, but please enjoy this photo instead. What makes the Icelandic hotdog so special? Look, I'm not exaggerating this: hotdogs are often referred to as Iceland's national food, and in August 2006, The Gaurdian selected the Baejarins Beztu Pylsur stand in downtown Reykjavik as Europe's best hotdog. (Full article, in Icelandic, with accompanying Bill Clinton photo, here.) Icelandic hotdogs come with ketchup, sweet mustard, raw onions, fried onions, and a mayo-based remoulade with sweet relish. They are disgusting and amazing all at once, and available literally everywhere, even the most remote parts of the country. I enjoyed my first one so much (see above) that I made the mistake of getting another less than 12 hours later, after which I did not eat any more for the remainder of my time in Iceland. But in that brief, glorious moment outside on Laugavegur at 3 a.m., the pylsur was the best part of my trip.

Monday, April 5, 2010

In which my intrepid band of eating adventurers travel north to the Bronx, to check out the "real" Little Italy.

The commercial and historical center of this area is Arthur Avenue itself, near 187th St. These blocks are lined with old-school Italian butchers, bakers, cheesemakers, and more. We trekked up on a Saturday afternoon, and the area was more than hopping.

Our route included:

The Arthur Ave. retail market (2344 Arthur Ave.)

Calabria Pork Store (2338 Arthur Ave.)

Madonia Bros. Bakery (2348 Arthur Ave.)

Teitl Bros. Market (2372 Arthur Ave.)

Dominick's Restaurant (2335 Arthur Ave.)

Casa della Mozzarella (604 E. 187th St.)

Borgatti's Ravioli and Egg Noodles (632 E. 187th St.)

DeLillo's Bakery (606 E. 187th St.)

Check out the video for the history and fun facts (Hillary Clinton loved Madonia Bros! DeLillo's was once owned by author Don DeLillo's family! Flat sopressata takes 6-8 weeks to age hanging from the ceiling!), and stay tuned for more (videotaped?) adventures.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Last week, my intrepid band of adventuresome eaters journeyed to Sunset Park, Brooklyn, for an afternoon of cross-cultural snacking. Sunset Park is the perfect microcosm of the multi-ethnic diversity that makes NYC as a whole such an exciting place to eat. Since the 1970s, SP has been home to a large number of Mexican, PuertoRican and Dominican immigrants--in fact, by 1990s, 50% of the nabe's population was of Hispanic descent. * And since the 1980s, the west side of the park has been home to many East Asian immigrants, who've spread out along 8th Ave. and turned this part of the hood into Brooklyn's large and thriving Chinatown.But enough of all this demographic background--I'm just trying to get across that an afternoon walking and eating in SP can result in a stomach full of tacos, tortas, bahn mi, dumplings, noodles and more, all within blocks of each other. And that, simply put, is awesome.Here's a look at our afternoon of face-cramming-- it was cheap (we hit five places and I don't think anyone spent more than $8 at any one place), more than filling, and crazy delicious. I tried to get at least one unflattering action shot of everyone who came, but a select few escaped the the lens. Lucky bastards. Anyhow, some highlights and notes from our trip, below:

Ari slurping dumpling soup from Yunnan Flavor Snack. The soup ($4) was a red-hot, oily, smelly mess of chili oil, pork broth, and thinly wrapped, brain-looking dumplings. YFS is, as far as I can tell, the only Chinese restaurant in NYC serving Yunnan (a southwestern Chinese province)-style cuisine, which is characteristically spicy, herbal, and noodle-heavy. YFS looks like a dump from the outside, but don't be fooled. Get the pork noodle soup (more on this below) or the aforementioned dumplings.

Portrait of a pork noodle soup.

Rizzo, really psyched about some Asian soft drink.

Bertie with the (literally)-finger-licking good pambazo ($6) (see glamour shot below) from Tacos Xochimilco. Pambazos are a cousin to tortas, except that the bread of the sandwich is dipped in a red guajillo pepper sauce and seared on the outside, meaning your figers will be seared in sauce, too. But that's okay, when the filling--potatos, chorizo, avocado, refried beans, quesofreco and shredded lettuce-- is this good, a little guajillo pepper stain is worth it in the long run. I've never seen pambazos on a menu before, and I'd like to give credit to the incredible NYC Food Guy for introducing them to me.

The pambazo, bisected.

Tony preparing to inhale a taco supreme at Tacos Matmoros.

A sampling of tacos from Matamoros ($1.25 each)-- chorizo, tripe, tongue, chicken, carneasada, and carnitas. What makes Matamoros stand out from the rest of the many tacos joints lining 5th Ave. is their attention to detail--griddling the tortillas before filling them, providing multiple salsas and sauces, and the overall quality of the meats. The standouts here were the chorizo (which is hard to screw up anyway), the carneasada, and the tripe. I'm not a huge tripe fan due to my aversion to rubbery, smooth textures, but this tripe was thinly sliced, heavily seasoned, and sauteed until it was deeply smoky and crsip--almost like bacon. I was pleasantly surprised and seriously impressed. Skip the tongue (too watery) and chicken (bland, though maybe that's to be expected).

Justin graphically devouring a pastry from LasConchitas.

LasConchitas is a fairly typical Mexican bakery, and while none of the offerings here were truly outstanding, they were fresh and dirt-cheap (I spent $10 on 10 pastries and 2 drinks). There was one bun, filled with a crumbly cinnamon-sugar core, that was particularly tasty. The Mexican cheesecake was also good--dense and tangy.

Yours truly, with bahn mi all over my face. Ba Xuyen is a longstanding Chowhound favorite for bahn mi in the city. The baguette was still warm, crispy on the outside, and I liked that they divvied up full-sized loafs for the sandwiches, meaning you could get lucky and end up with a middle piece that didn't taper down at one end. However, I was disappointed with the lack of spiciness on my #1 ($3.50), and I found the meatballs on the #4 borderline-gelatinous in texture. Points given for an even distribution of cilantro and pickled veggies, though, which is a pet peeve of mine at some Vietnamese sandwich places.

Overall, a very successful trip. 5 stops left us plenty full but wasn't gout-inducing, and the view from the top of Sunset Park itself (the highest point in Brooklyn) is worth the trip alone-- though that wouldn't be nearly as much fun as bringing a crew and stuffing your face.

I've previously sung the praises of the 7 train, the elevated subway that cuts east-west across Manhattan and Queens, exposing the deep belly of some of the city's best ethnic eats. God, I love that train. I'd ride it start to finish, and in fact I did just that a few weeks ago, when I trekked out to its last stop, Main St/Flushing. Flushing is home to the country's largest population of Chinese immigrants east of the Rockies*. It's at once more dense and less hectic than Manhattan or Brooklyn's Chinatowns, and a real culinary wonderland. I've previously compiled entire walkable dumpling tours covering wide swaths of Flushing, but mostly focused on smallish stalls and restaurants doling out seriously cheap eats. This time, my trip was little different: I was out for dim sum, in the grandest fashion possible.

Tropical tiki tripe

Dim sum is not a casual affair in Flushing: massive, ornate banquet halls heave and ho with the weight of hundreds of diners, pressed tightly into circular tables, barking back and forth with the brusque waitstaff hawking their miniature wares. After some research, we settled on Ocean Jewels as our venue; it has a reputation for serving excellent seafood for dinner but is also renowned for their weekend dim sum feast. At Ocean Jewels, it’s best to stay seated to avoid losing a foot (or worse) to one of the ladies torpedoing down the aisles with a cart full of pork buns. It's also best to come with a group, to ensure maximum variety in dishes tasted, and it's probably best to designate one loud, slightly bossy person to deal with the cart-staff and order for the table.

Our bill after several hours of eating-- that's 37 plates

Major kudos to my adventuresome friends, who woke up early on a Saturday, rode the subway for over an hour, and were promptly greeted with braised tripe and abalone dumplings. Here's a sampling of some of our wares: some were fairly standard, some a bit more advanced. We had shrimp cakes, steamed pork buns, jellified tripe, egg custards, sweet bean rolls, sautéed morning glory, chicken feet, the aforementioned abalone dumplings, and a creamy, milky dessert with lychee and mung beans. This was dim sum for the masses: nothing was transcendent, but everything was solid and fresh. And when brunch for 8 comes to a grand total of $120, I’d take the 7 there and back again.